Page 10 of Same Time Next Summer

She stopped and he caught up with her, her head still down. “What?”

“Are you leaving? You know I’m leaving tomorrow. I wanted to say goodbye.” She was still looking down. He put his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “It’s just... The summer’s over. You’re leaving. And suddenly you’re a jerk with a beer and you’ve just left me already.”

“Sam, you know I was going to come talk to you. I always come talk to you.” His hand was still on her shoulder. “You’re my person on the beach.”

Sam wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m being stupid. I’m just sad.”

“Let’s be in better touch this year. Like text me sometimes and tell me what you’re reading, and I’ll tell you how boring it sounds.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Are you really going home already?” The thought of it was excruciating to him.

“Yeah, I’m not into all that out there.” She looked up at him, and this next part would live in his memory in super slow motion: her hair fell over her eye, the piece that she sometimes braided. He took his hand from her shoulder and touched it and brushed it away behind her ear. Now his hand was on her neck and his heart was racing and he had to stop this right now before he ruined everything.

And that’s when she kissed him. At first it felt like she was testing it out, brushing her lips against his to see what that might feel like. Then it was a slow, warming-up kiss that he wanted to dive all the way into. He kept his hand on her neck and pulled her to him with his free arm. When their bodies were touching, Sam pulled away.

“Okay, now I’m embarrassed. I have no idea why I did that and I need to go home.”

“Sam.” He pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her hair.

“No, really, I’m going to be so weird if I stay here. I’m sorry, I don’t know what my problem is.”

Wyatt smiled at her, feeling suddenly in control of things. “Sam, it’s nothing. Just text me tomorrow. I’ll be bored in the car.” She hugged him again and walked toward her house. It wasn’t nothing.

9

Sam

The next morning, Sam came back from swimming alone to find that Wyatt had texted her the minute his family started their drive back to Florida. It was basic chitchat, his wondering how the waves were, saying how boring the ride was. Sam felt a layered wave of relief, both that texting with Wyatt wasn’t disappearing with the summer and that her kissing him (like a total lunatic, she would have added if she had anyone to tell) wasn’t going to make things weird. Wyatt was a true friend and she wasn’t going to let her completely out-of-control body do anything to compromise that.

By the time they were both back in school, they were texting every day. It was a strange thing to bring her summer person back into the city in this way. She texted him on the subway and from the locker room at the YMCA. They no longer needed the surf report as an excuse to text, and it felt like the more they talked, the more there was to say. Wyatt told her about songs he was writing. He told her he’d play them for her next summer. He told her about how hisparents didn’t speak directly to one another for the entirety of parents’ weekend. Sam told him about how her geometry teacher hated her and that the girls in her grade were sneaking into clubs. Sam’s favorite part of the day was getting into bed at night, because she usually heard from him then. She smiled at her phone every time the first text came in: What’s happening in the big city?

It was during winter break, when Wyatt was in Florida and Sam was in New York, that he came clean about his school. Travis was out, so Sam was taking advantage of being able to actually talk on the phone in their room.

“I need to tell you something.” He sounded really nervous. “I’ve been sort of lying.”

“What?” Sam said.He has a girlfriend. This thought landed with a thud. It had never occurred to her before. Why wouldn’t Wyatt have a girlfriend? One who could also play the guitar at his artsy school. The hand that held the phone to her ear felt shaky, and she braced it with her other hand while she waited.

“My school is for kids with learning differences. I have dyslexia. But I do play music there. I just felt weird that you didn’t know.”

Waves of relief. Like all the way through her body. Sam let out a breath.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.

“Why would it bother me?”

“Well, like, all you do is read. And it’s the thing I can’t do.”

“Yeah, because our whole friendship is based on books? Who cares?” He may have interpreted Sam’s light tone ascompassion. But really she was just so happy he didn’t have a girlfriend.

One Friday night,Wyatt texted at midnight. Sam smiled when she saw it was him, that familiar but impossible feeling that he was in bed with her.

Wyatt: Hey

Sam: It’s late. What are you doing?

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